


The fire in her hair

by Welsper



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/F, Season 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-08-14 08:30:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20189311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welsper/pseuds/Welsper
Summary: In the cold of winter, a love is forged.





	The fire in her hair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reine_des_corbeaux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reine_des_corbeaux/gifts).

Dragons were beautiful and wondrous.

And terrifying.

Sansa felt a gust of wind blowing the hair out of her face as the two large beasts flew over Winterfell. When she had been younger, she had thought about the knights and kings of old and the ones in her stories, riding on their horses and dragons, to save kingdoms and princesses. But no knight in shining armour had brought them here, where they looked so terribly out of place.

They had come here with their mother, a young woman, scarcely any older than Sansa yet she had conquered half the world over the sea. Was she here to do the same? Come to take away what Sansa had finally regained? Or was she truly the saviour, the one Sansa knew those red priests spoke about? Jon seemed to think she was, after she had saved him. But then again, Sansa never really knew what Jon thought these days. Or what he wanted. But it was done now, what was to be their Queen was here and so were her children and her armies.

If saving Winterfell meant yielding it to this foreigner, then Sansa would do what she needed for her people. The world was coming to an end and the time to petty squabbles was over. At least that was what Sansa told herself when she threw open the gates for Daenerys Targaryen and her host.

She watched this small, slight woman, buried under layers of thick robes. She looked so out of place here, the same as her dragons. Sansa had never seen hair so white on a woman this young. She thought to herself, maybe even apart from the dragons, it wasn’t so weird that the people used to think of Targaryens as godlike. That they so easily yielded to them.

Daenerys Targaryen was the most beautiful woman Sansa had ever seen.

“The North is as beautiful as they claim,” that strange woman said. “As are you.” Sansa could tell a fake smile when she saw one. Ah, of course. She had heard tales of Essos, of all the exotic wonders there, the courtesans of Bravoos and the priestesses who worshipped love and the descendants of old Valyria. The queen must not be very impressed with an old castle and pale Notherners. Or Sansa herself.

“Winterfell is yours, Your Grace,” Sansa said.

* * *

“What do you think of her?”

The last Stark women stood on top of Winterfell’s walls as they looked over the bustle and commotion inside and outside the walls.

“She’s dangerous,” Arya said. “But kind. I have seen evil people, Sansa. We both have. She’s not one of them.”

Sometimes Sansa thought she didn’t know Arya at all any more. They talked more now than they had ever before. But they both still kept some things to themselves, all those horrible things that happened to them in the long years since they rode South to King’s Landing. Maybe one day, they would truly know it all. For now, Sansa was simply glad her sister was by her side again.

“She may not be one of us, but she came her to defend us all the same.”

Arya grinned and boxed Sansa in the shoulder.

“Didn’t you always dream about a knight on a white horse?” The small girl pointed over to Drogon perching on one of Winterfell’s walls, watching the preparations the same as them. Sansa wondered how much they understood, those dragons. Maybe Daenerys knew.

“The big one counts for a few horses, don’t you think? And a queen is better than a knight.”

Sansa groaned and hid her face in her arms.

“Don’t be silly, Arya. She hates me. She hates being here. She lost one of her children defending our brother and now she may lose them all. Even her own life.”

Arya looked at her with a smile on her face. It had that slight crook in it, the one that almost made it seem mocking, but her eyes were full of warmth. Sansa was so sorry that they never really got a chance to bond before it all went to seven hells.  
“She’s a Targaryen. When have they ever cared about conventions?”

Arya leaned on the wall of the walkway. Down there, the armies were busy preparing for the onslaught of the dead.

“Aegon had two wives,” Arya said. Sansa remembered Arya’s love for the stories of the brave dragon rider women of House Targaryen.

“But they didn’t care for one another as they loved Aegon. Maybe if they had gotten along better, they wouldn’t have lost Rhaenya and everything that happened to that family would have gone differently. Maybe Daenerys wouldn’t be the last Targaryen now.” Arya looked at her sideways.

“If the two queens had fought together. If they had loved each other, then it might have all worked out.”

Arya turned to leave, probably off to oversee the production of dragonglass weapons or to hone her skills with her own blades. She stopped in her tracks after walking away a few feet, but didn’t turn around.

“She doesn’t hate you, you know?”

Arya threw something over her shoulder and Sansa fumbled to catch it before it landed in the fresh snow.

“She asked me to give this to you.”

Sansa stared after her sister’s back, looked down on the letter in her hand and back up. Down again. A letter from the queen? Sansa dread what was inside. Arya said this, but Daenerys might have simply been courteous. Would it ask for her to swear fealty proper? Demand apologies for perceived and noticed slights? Slowly, Sansa unfolded the scroll.

My Lady of Winterfell,

I humbly request the presence of your company in my quarters this evening. We two have never gotten the chance to talk and I would like to know you better, before we fight side by side.

Daenerys

_My Lady of Winterfell. _Sansa felt so stupid at the way that made her feel. Why was her heart beating faster at that? She had signed it Daenerys. No titles, none of the many she wore and introduced herself with, neither the ones she was born with nor those she earned. A sign of humbleness, to show or make Sansa believe Daenerys didn’t think her beneath her?

My Queen,

With greatest joy and most humble acceptance I will follow your invitation. I too wish we would become closer before the dawn of what might be the final day of humanity.

Sansa

Daenerys clutched the small parchment to her chest, right above her beating heart.

“She will come, Missandei!”

“That is wonderful, your Grace,” Missandei said with a smile as she was braiding Dany’s hair. Dany had bathed and perfumed and put on a red gown that went well past her ankles and dragged on the floors of Castle Winterfell. Inside the rooms, she never needed to wear the heavy furs that dragged her down so. Apparently hot water ran inside the walls, from underground hot springs. Dany wondered if she could bathe in them. Maybe she could ask Sansa? Should she be willing to indulge her in such frivolities. The woman did not seem like she enjoyed her company much.

She was so beautiful. The fire in her hair reminded Dany of the warmth of Essos, of the breath of her children. Sansa however was cool and collected and she moved with such certainty and grace Dany understood why the North followed her and her brother.

And she was tall, too. Dany liked them tall.

“What my sister likes?” Jon had asked her with a laugh. It was a pleasant sound, and Dany was glad she still got to hear it after all they had been through. She had become good friends with this man, however different they were.

“Dany, we were never all that close.” He had thought on it for a moment. “She always had a thing for lemon cakes. I don’t suppose you brought any from over the sea?”

She could work with that.

Dany had brought with her company supplies and weapons and food. Among those was a small lemon tree. An indulgence for herself, for the child she had been and for the child she still might be in some ways. When she closed her eyes and dreamed at night, sometimes it still came to her. That house with the red door and the lemon trees that grew in the courtyard. Maybe she would never return to Essos. But she could take a bit of home with her.

The tree had barely survived the journey. It was a small, weak thing, pruned and trimmed and cut down to make it easier to carry. But it had borne two fruits. They weren’t much, but the cook of Winterfell had given her a warm smile when she had brought it to her and asked her if she could make lemon cakes.

They were small things, a little unsightly, as they sat there on the tray. Sansa had probably eaten much better lemon cakes before. For a moment, Dany felt like throwing them in the trash, embarrassed by herself and her stupid gesture. Sansa didn’t even like her. She had only accepted the invitation to not offend her. She probably had better things to do than indulge a foreign queen imposing on her and her hospitality and her dreams of friendship and the company of a beautiful girl.

“The Lady Sansa Stark has arrived,” she was told by a guard arriving at her quarters.

“How...” Dany looked up and down at herself, and stared at Missandei a little helplessly.

“You look beautiful, Khaleesi,” Missandei reassured her. She bowed slightly and left Dany to herself, who suddenly felt horribly afraid. All these people she had been with before, but now she felt like a silly girl again face with this beauty of fire and ice.

She looked wonderful in the low candlelight, her black gown of down and leather reflecting the warmth of the fire.

“Your Grace,” Sansa said and bowed her head. Dany pressed her lips together. Of all the people, this was not one she wanted to call her by any title. If she would call her Dany in time, like Jon did? Would she want to?

“Lady Sansa,” she said and stepped aside. “I am overjoyed that you decided to accept my invitation.”

“I am honoured the queen herself would invite me to join her,” Sansa said. She flowed like water as she stepped inside. They said down at the table and Dany felt a little giddy as she thought she saw her eyes widen for a moment as she spotted the lemon cakes.

“Where… where did you get those?”

“I brought lemons, from Essos. It isn’t much, but… perhaps it is a way for me to start repaying the debt I owe you for sheltering my armies and me under your roof. I know… I know this is difficult for you, feeding my men and my dragons, but Jon told me we must fight here or lose it all.”

“He is right,” Sansa admitted. “But yes, if I may say so, feeding your host brings us to our limits. We… I am grateful for you help, and that you are not abandoning us like the false Queen Cersei. I think you and I, we started of on the wrong side. And I apologize for being so cold to you, or for any offense I or anyone here at Winterfell has given you and your men.”

Dany reached out for Sansa and took her hand.

“Then let us leave the past in the past and start anew.”

Dany’s heart skipped a beat when Sansa squeezed back.

* * *

She found the queen wandering the Godswood by herself. A few Dothraki were off in the distance, watching their Khaleesi, as they called her. They were strange people, those Dothraki, but Sansa sometimes saw them starting to mingle with her people. Where they couldn’t speak to one another, they used hand and feet and laughter. The Unsullied too, seemed to become closer.

And wasn’t that how it was supposed to be? Sansa admitted she had had her inhibitions at first, perhaps still had. But they were on one side now, the side of humanity. This was not the time to squabble over appearances or traditions or culture. They had to become one, as the army of the dead was one. This was the only way.

Dany had picked up a handful of snow and turned to Sansa with a smile when she noticed her.

“I have only ever seen snow in my dreams before I came here,” Dany said. She looked utterly fascinated.

“I am sure you have seen many things I don’t even know about,” Sansa said.

“Perhaps one day, I can show you. When all this is over. Show you Meereen, and Bravoos, and the great Grass Sea...”

Sansa wanted to, wanted to see it all. Wanted Dany to show her the people and lands she had deemed so important she had not come home for all these years. If it was home for her. Sansa wanted it to be.

She almost stumbled on the spot as the two dragons set down near them, flapping their wings and blowing snow off the leaves on the trees.

“I cannot show you Essos now, but perhaps you can show me your lands,” Dany said with a smile as she turned to climb Drogon. For a moment, Sansa didn’t understand what Dany wanted as she waited for her on top of the large creature. Rhaegal had come closer and was sinking down next to Sansa. It was like she suddenly knew what he wanted when she met his large, dark eyes. It was like the two of them shared a connection she hadn’t felt since…

“I… I don’t know how to ride a dragon,” Sansa said, startled. She almost tumbled back as Rhaegal blew hot air into her face. It was strange. This creature, he was nothing like anything Sansa had ever seen before. He was nothing like Lady, but Sansa felt a connection to him that was much the same. She reached out with one trembling hand. The dragon keened, a low, content rumbling in his throat as she petted his scaly nose.

“I am not even good at riding horses,” she confessed. She had never been that martial like her siblings, going out to hunt and train and even shoot from horseback.

“Well, it’s a good thing Rhaegal is not a horse then,” Dany replied with a chuckle.

“Go on.”

Sansa took a deep breath and started to climb Rhaegal’s back. He held still for her and she was grateful, because it was really hard enough already. She sat on him, wobbly and unsteady, but it felt _right_. The dragon was comfortably warm under her, a stark contrast to the cold winds around them.

“What do I hold onto?” She asked.

“Whatever you can!” Dany shouted with a laugh as Drogon rose into the air and Rhaegal followed.

With wide eyes, Sansa soared through the air. Winterfell looked smaller and smaller, until it was no larger to her eyes than just a little toys castle. The mountains and plains and frozen rivers whizzed past her as the two dragons glided through the air, carrying their riders with them. They set down by a canyon. And Sansa nearly sunk to her feet as she climbed down from his back. Dany held her by the arm.

“This is… I have only ever felt this way once before,” Sansa started, her eyes on Rhaegal.

“There was a direwolf by my side once, when I was a girl. I called her Lady. I felt… no, you’ll probably think this is silly,” she stopped herself. Dany shook her head.

“You and I, we have seen many things we might not fully understand or be able to explain. Only a few years ago, dragons were but tales to me and here they are, by my side. Your side. Tell me about your wolf.”

“I felt I was her, in my dreams. I felt I could see through her eyes, we were so close it almost felt like we were one. When I am with Rhageal, it feels… it feels like that,” Sansa tried to put her feelings into words. She thought she failed at it, but Dany nodded.

“It is much the same with Drogon and me. Your wolf, what happened to her?”

“A cruel man.”

Dany gave her a sad smile.

“The world has too many of those. But perhaps… you and I, we can rid the world of them. Together.”

Daenerys held out a hand. The expression on her face was almost shy and it might have been the most endearing thing Sansa had ever seen.

“Before I… Before I ask you, I want you to know this is not me trying to use you for my campaign. Not me trying to use you to control the North, to gain the love of your men and women. I came here to defend the people, and I would see them safe, no matter your answer. I would see you safe.”

Sansa could feel her heartbeat pounding in her ears. This felt like… but it couldn’t be, right? Maybe she was friends with Daenerys, which was was already more than she ever thought she could be to her.

Daenerys took Sansa’s gloved hands into her own and Sansa’s heart stopped for a moment.

“The world is cruel and lonely and dangerous. But with you by my side, I feel like I could do everything. Will you be my queen? Will you rule and fight by my side, defend those that cannot defend themselves, will you bring justice with me to those that are unjust?”

“I will,” Sansa breathed. Here, near the end of the world and in an endless frozen wasteland with the last of the dragons to watch over them, Sansa and Daenerys kissed and fell together in one last night of comfort before the Night King would come to bring his doom upon the living.

* * *

“Do you trust her?” Arya asked, her arms crossed in front of her chest. Her face was hard these days. Perhaps one day Arya would feel close enough to her to tell her all she had been through.

“I do. She could have left us all to die beyond the wall, but she came to try and save us all the same. She lost a son for this, and she is still here.”

Arya nodded. Sansa knew Arya had been spending some time with Dany, her fascination with this strong queen driving her towards her. Arya had never been one for the knights and the love stories, she had always liked the strong women of history. But Dany wasn’t history, she was here and Sansa supposed it was only natural they would become friends.

“She may not be a Northerner, but she came here. She could have flown back to Essos by now. Prepare for the war and defend those she grew up among.”

“I have seen her among her people, and those she adopted. Those she freed. Mhysa, they call her. Mother.” Bran’s voice was soft, but he carried himself with an ease and wisdom Sansa at times found frightening. The three-eyed Raven he said he was, but Sansa knew he was still Bran, too. And she would do everything to keep it that way. She had lost too many brothers already, she was not going to let this one fall into the hands of the past, however much they may need it in this upcoming fight. She was glad for the girl by his side, Meera Reed and she knew that Bran was glad too.

“She is a good person,” Bran said. “Not being from the North does not mean you cannot defend it. We are all on the side of the living now.”

Sansa watched as Bran gave Jon one of his piercing stares.

“Will you tell them?” Jon asked.

“It’s your choice,” Bran said.

Jon nodded.

And Bran was no longer someone to coat the truths in pretty words and long speeches.

“Jon was born Aegon Targaryen, son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen.”

Sansa’s stomach dropped and she felt sick. If he was a Targaryen… She knew how they secured their bloodlines. If he was Aegon, then would that make him the king? The king by Dany’s side? The king who rode Rhaegal, named after his father? Sansa felt like crying.

“Sansa.” Jon smiled at her, as if he had felt her despair. “He’s yours. A dragon chooses its rider as much as the rider chooses the dragon.”

He clasped her shoulder with his hand.

“I’m not going to destroy your bond. Rhaegal didn’t pick me, he picked you.”

“And so did I.”

The three Starks turned their heads to see Dany join them in the clearing.

“My apologies for interrupting. But… if we are to be one then, our families, to fight and to love, I felt like I should...”

“You are welcome here. With us.”

“We Starks and Targaryens may come from different sides of the world and other ends of history, but we are here now.” Jon stepped forward and took Sansa’s and Dany’s hand, only to put them into each other.

“I am not sure if I can ever see your brother as my father, Dany,” Jon said and Dany regarded him with a smile that was a little sad. They had both forever missed their chance to meet this man that had meant so much to both their history. “Because to me, that was Ned Stark.”

His gloved hands were warm as he gently squeezed their smaller hands, their laced together fingers.

“But my mother and him, they found each other. They loved each other. We don’t need to hate one another and I know you two don’t. Don’t let what you learnt today come between you. I’ve got no desire for any throne, you know that, yours,” he looked at Dany with a smile which she returned, “or the title of King in the North,” he told Sansa, who gave him a warm smile too.

“It would be my honor to join our houses together once again.”

“If Hourse Targaryan and House Stark’s love made you,” Arya said. “It can’t be wrong then.”

“Did you know?” Sansa asked Dany. The woman nodded. “He told me, honest as he is. I will be true, I was worried… Ever since the Dance of the Dragons, women were placed lower in the lines of succession than any other male. I mistrusted him at first, and I am sorry for it. For Jon is a good man. He would make a good king, if he so wished,” Dany said, rubbing her fingers over Sansa’s hand.

“I told you, I don’t want that. Never have.”

“But you would. My advisors thought so too. And they did bring up marriage to Jon,” Sansa felt that pit in her stomach again, “but neither of us saw that happening. Jon is a good friend and I cherish him, but I don’t love him. I love you, my Lady of Winterfell. My queen.”

“But won’t there be those that think any man makes a better ruler by virtue of simply being one?”

Arya smiled at Sansa and held up two fingers.

“Let them think that,” she then said with a shrug and tossed the dagger in her hand. “If they threaten my queens, I will open their throats.”

Sansa liked the sound of that. My queens. Perhaps with Dany by her side, she could finally find happiness. She was finally home, with what remained to her of her family.

She wouldn’t let them go. The Night King would have to pry them from her cold, dead hands.

And she was planning to give him a fight.


End file.
